


Sweet Distraction

by imafriendlydalek



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Donuts, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, Public Transportation, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Sam Wilson, War Veteran Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 06:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14611785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek
Summary: That guy sitting across from Sam seems to be eyeing more than just his donuts...





	Sweet Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by real events. Also, I wrote this mostly on a bus, so please forgive any mistakes.
> 
> I needed a fluffy distraction from the angst of Infinity War :-(
> 
> Comments and kudos are like donuts for the soul!

Sam is running late. He is running so, so late, and Jesse is going to kill him. Worse: she is going to tease him about it forever.

_What, did you sleep in the day they drilled punctuality in the Chair Force?_

There should be, like, laws against family members serving in different branches of the military.

He has a good reason for being late, though, except he can’t really divulge that without breaking patient/counselor privilege, so he’s just going to have to suck it up. There is, however, one thing that might help get him back in his sister’s good graces, and since he is already so very late, what’s a few extra minutes, right?

Which is how he ends up balancing a half-dozen box of donuts and a cup of hot chocolate - sometimes you gotta treat yoself - as he dashes down the stairs to the platform. He makes it into the subway car just as the doors are closing, narrowly avoiding a pinched ass, and the train jerks into motion seconds later.

It’s one of the older cars that still has a few groups of four seats facing each other, and one of those seats is empty. It’s a long ride up to Harlem, so Sam makes his way over and eases himself into the seat, taking care not to spill his cocoa on himself (or others).

He realizes belatedly that it’s one of the rear-facing seats. He _hates_ rear-facing seats.

“Geez, Buck, you smell like avocado toast. When’d you turn into such a millennial?”

There’s a tall guy with carefully combed blond hair and enviably broad shoulders sitting next to Sam, and he’s just gotten kicked in the shins by the guy across from him. 

“Eat me, punk,” the shin-kicker says, his tone even in that “takes 0 shit” way. He runs a hand over his head, where his long brown hair is tied back into a bun. “These luscious locks didn’t get this way with that cheap-ass supermarket-brand stuff you love so much.”

The blond guy huffs with laughter. “You sound like Tony. You sure you’re not the one he’s dating?”

“Well, maybe you should listen to your man from time to time. Every once in a while, the guy has a point.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him you said that,” Blondie shoots back. “He’ll be touched.”

“Too much information, man.”

Blondie groans and swats at Man Bun’s knee as the conductor announces the next stop.

“Alright, man, this is where I get off.”

“I don’t need to know that,” Man Bun retorts. 

Blondie moves to scratch his nose, except he’s not-so-covertly flipping off Man Bun. 

Sam does his best to suppress a chuckle.

Blondie and Man Bun catch him at it, though, judging by the way Blondie’s eyebrow jumps up at Sam ever so slightly and Man Bun shakes his head as he grins to himself.

“Well,” Blondie says as he pushes himself up out of his seat, “on that note, I’m off.” He slips out into the aisle, hanging onto the overhead rail, and turns back to his friend. He’s gesturing toward Sam’s box and grinning mischievously when he says, “Maybe if you’re lucky, Buck, he’ll share those donuts.”

Blondie winks at Sam and Man Bun before turning and stepping out of the subway car.

Man Bun smirks to himself, shakes his head, then looks up. His eyes meet Sam’s and Sam feels his breath catch. They’re blue, so blue, but with an underlying iciness that belies the easy banter between him and Blondie. 

He glances at the donuts, then back at Sam. “So, do I got a chance?”

Sam bites back a smile. “With these donuts? Hell no.” At Man Bun’s crumpled look, he adds, “These are reserved for Jesse Wilson-Masters, and trust me, you do _not_ want to take donuts from a pregnant lady.”

Man Bun presses his lips together and raises his hands in surrender. “You got me there, man. Hands off the donuts.” There’s a pause before he adds, “When’s the big day?”

“Baby’s due in three weeks.”

Man Bun’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. Congrats, man. You must be pretty excited.”

Sam smiles. “Yeah. I’m gonna be the best uncle that kid could ever ask for.”

“I bet,” Man Bun says, and Sam can’t help but notice the way the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly.

There’s a blip of silence, and Sam’s just about to start panicking that this was it, that this fun little conversation/flirtation thing with Man Bun is over and they’ll just quietly part ways, ne’er to see the other again, when Man Bun sticks out his hand.

“I’m Bucky, by the way,” he declares.

Sam takes the proffered hand, notes the warm, firm grip, the confident shake, the slight roughness of Man Bun - _Bucky’s_ hand. “Sam,” he replies. “Where ya headed, Bucky?”

Sam emphasizes the nickname ever so slightly, earning himself the subtlest smile from the guy.

“The Cloisters. I work security there.”

“Really? That sounds like a fun gig.”

Bucky shrugs. “Sure. Most days. I’m mostly behind the curtain these days, watching the monitors, making sure no one makes off with the Unicorn Tapestries. My ‘no touching!’ days are behind me.”

Sam lets out a chuckle at the mental image of Bucky admonishing a gaggle of tourists. Except now he's picturing him in a security guard uniform, and that’s doing terrible things to his constitution. 

It’s as if Bucky can read his mind, because he adds, “I’m just glad they let us wear plain clothes and not those horrible polyester uniforms of the gallery guards.”

“So you must know the place pretty well, then, huh?” Sam ventures, trying to steer this conversation toward an opening to ask his new acquaintance for a date.

“Like the back of my hand,” Bucky replies with a laugh, and it’s only when he turns his hands over in his lap that Sam notices that the left one is a prosthetic. Bucky must have caught him noticing, since he adds, “Iraq. IED. On the bright side, me needing a new hand led to Steve meeting his true love, so yay for that?”

Bucky twirls said new hand in the air with a quiet “Woohoo.”

Sam breathes out slowly, still processing this information and reconciling it with his own experiences. “Things we do for friends, huh? I did a few tours over there too, see more’n enough of those to last a lifetime.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asks, cocking his head to the side. “You don’t look like the Army type.”

Sam lets out a groan. “Not you too.” At Bucky’s confused look, he explains. “My sister’s Army, and she likes nothing better’n to rib me about being Air Force.”

Bucky spreads his fingers by way of apology. “No ribbing from me. Rescue Squadron’s the only reason my arm was the only thing I lost over there.”

Turns out, Bucky and Steve had come back just before Sam had gone over on what would be his final tour. They get to talking about their experiences, and before either of them realizes it, the conductor is announcing Bucky’s stop as the next.

“Hey, I was hoping to find a smoother way to do this, but whaddya say we go out sometime?”

Bucky flashes him a smile. “Yeah, sure. You owe me a donut.”

Sam chuckles as he pulls out his phone and hands it to Bucky to put his number in. “Think I might owe Steve some donuts, too.”

“Steve’s already got his pay-it-forward karma,” Bucky says, wiggling the fingers of his new hand. He hands the phone back to Sam. “Don't make a guy wait too long, Sam Wilson.”

The subway screeches to a stop and Bucky slides out of his seat and shuffles toward the door. Sam takes a moment to appreciate the view.

“I definitely won't!” Sam calls after him.

Once the doors have closed again and the train pulled out of the station, Sam looks down at the box in his lap. 

Yep, it was definitely a good choice, stopping for these.

Even if Jesse is going to kill him.

Worth it.


End file.
